


The Stable Boy and the Rose

by EllenOfOz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Royal Guard Castiel, Stable Hand Dean Winchester, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz
Summary: Dean Winchester has admired Princess Tessa ever since she rode into his stable and smiled at him. He's determined to climb the castle walls and leave a rose in her apartment.But when he finally reaches the balcony, he runs into a surprise.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 34
Kudos: 199





	The Stable Boy and the Rose

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little story based on a prompt that I saw in the Destiel Port facebook group, but originally came from tumblr. Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: This story is now available in podfic form! [You can download the MP3 here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229712)

Dean gasps as his foot slips and a shower of pebbles skitters down the stone wall beneath him. His fingers scream as the rough-cut blocks of the castle wall tear his skin, but he holds on, pulling himself up until he can drag his body over the balcony edge and slump to the paved floor, panting with relief. 

The walls of Heavensgate castle aren’t that high, but one misplaced step might have meant a nasty fall if he had lost his grip. He thanks his lucky stars as he inspects his grazed hands, then checks his pocket to make sure the rose has survived the ascent. The petals appear black in the thin moonlight, and while the bloom is slightly crushed, it will be fine to lay somewhere for the princess to find.

The princess… As Dean catches his breath, he leans his head back on the stone behind him, thinking of her pretty eyes. Princess Tessa captured his heart the moment she’d rode into the stables after a long ride, and smiled at him as he’d helped her down. She’d never said a word to him, but Dean has never given up easily. Tonight, he's determined to make it into her apartments and leave this rose for her to find.

He climbs to his feet, wincing at the pain in his hip from where he’d scraped it against a windowsill earlier. He hopes like hell this is the right balcony, because he doesn’t think his hands are going to take climbing any higher tonight. Turning to survey the end of the long balcony facing the town, he can see several darkened windows and at least one door, all closed. 

He turns back toward the ocean side of the castle and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees someone standing there on the balcony with him. 

He manages to stifle a yelp, but it's too late, the person is on him, pushing him up against the rough stone wall face-first in a way that might be exciting if it wasn't pants-wettingly terrifying. 

"Who are you?" the person growls, and _wow_ , isn't that a voice to make Dean swoon? The man is solid, as tall as Dean, and built like a brick shithouse if Dean's any judge. He cranes his neck, but can't see the guy's features in the shadows—and he sounds mad. He should probably wriggle out of this and run for his life, but he's being crushed against the wall so hard that he can hardly breathe. He says nothing.

The guy tries again. "What are you _doing_ here?" 

Dean tries the reasonable approach first, before he resorts to kicking the guy in the nads and bolting. He gasps out, "Hey, no need to get violent, man. I just wanted to deliver this to the princess, okay?" He holds up the rose in the hand that isn't pinned behind him, and the hold on him slackens considerably. Enough for him to breathe, anyway. 

"A rose? You're serious?" 

"Yes! Look, I don't mean her any harm, okay?" Dean pushed back against the elbow across his back, praying to anyone who'll listen that this guy isn't the kill first, ask questions later type. 

Thankfully, he seems to be more the curious type. The pressure on Dean's back lets up and he spins around, taking a few deep breaths. The guy is watching him, but he's still in shadow so Dean can't make out more than tousled hair and one hand on the hilt of a sword. 

"I'll be getting out of your hair, then," Dean says, turning to run, when the guard sidesteps to block him. 

"Give me the rose," he growls out. 

"Sorry, what?" Dean asks. 

The guard holds out a hand. "I'll give it to her for you."

Dean blinks at him, suddenly unsure if that knock into the wall had damaged more than just a graze on his cheek. "You'd…you'd do that?" 

"Do you have a message?" the guy asks, plucking the rose from Dean's fingers. 

"Just…just say it's from an admirer," Dean says, still unsure what's happening. 

The guard says, "Very well," then steps back from Dean's space, leaving an opening for him to escape. 

Dean murmurs, "Thank you," then swings back over the rampart, lowering himself gingerly back down to the balcony a few floors below, hands still raw and stinging. He has no idea how he's gotten away from this one without a whipping, but he's thankful to the strange guard. 

***

Two days later, Dean and Sam are brushing down horses. The Harvest is upon them, and while the season means hard work for the farmers and producers of the region, the nobility take it as an excuse to party. Or in this case, to ride out across the moors to "take the air". Dean is also fond of riding out there himself, but how is anyone supposed to enjoy the quiet, windswept solitude of the landscape with forty other people and horses? 

They make quick work of looking after the six royal mounts borrowed for the event by visitors to the castle, and are just finishing up the last few when a new group arrives. 

Sam hisses, "The princess! Dean!" 

Dean stands up straight from where he was bending to check a shoe, nearly banging his head on the side of the stall in the process.

The princess rides into the stable, dramatically swinging her leg over the saddle and dropping to the ground. She looks stunning, as always—her long, brown hair loose and flowing, her face flushed from the ride. Her fine riding leathers show off her figure in a way that has Dean swallowing hard. 

He smiles as he steps forward, but as the princess dumps the reins and sweeps out of the stable without a glance at anyone, let alone Dean, his heart clenches tight. What can a stable boy ever hope to offer a princess? Nothing, he realises, abruptly wishing he wasn't covered in shit. But he is, most days. 

He pushes down his shattered dreams and rushes forward to grab the reins of the royal stallion, and nearly runs right into a man standing behind where the princess had been. 

The man is well-built, with dark, tousled hair and the bluest of ocean-blue eyes. He holds the reins of his own mount as he stares at Dean for a few moments, then raises one eyebrow in a questioning way. "Scale any more walls, lately?" 

Dean's eyes widen as he takes in what the guy is wearing—the blues of a palace guard. He quickly takes the reins, trying to hide the still-healing scratches on his hands. "No sir," he mumbles, but before he turns away with the horses, the guard gives him a barely there but definite wink. 

The guard glances over his shoulder towards the door, then looks back to Dean. He raises his voice a little so the two other men behind him can hear. "Full moon tonight, I hear. Harvest moon. The princess's masked ball will be busy." His eyes linger on Dean's before the three men turn to leave the stable, discussing the security requirements for the ball. 

Bobby's voice cuts through Dean's thoughts as he stands watching them leave. "You just gonna stand there all day, ya idjit? Get them horses put up!" 

Dean scrambles back into action, leading the remaining horses into their places.

Sam joins him, murmuring, "What was that all about, anyway? You friends with the guards, now?" 

"What? No! I don't even know who that was," Dean admits, finding himself sad that was the case. 

Sam huffs as he gets to work removing a saddle, "You’re kidding, right? That was Sir Castiel, the princess' personal guard—he's the youngest to ever take the title. They say he's tough as nails."

Dean considers as he brushes down Castiel's horse. He hadn't seemed tough the other night on the balcony. Okay, when he'd been roughing Dean up, sure. But everyone liked a bit of that now and then, didn't they? But there’s something about the guard that’s drawing Dean in, making him want to know him better.

A masked ball, huh? Two days ago he might have jumped at the chance to snatch a dance with the princess. But maybe…maybe now he has a different conquest in mind. 

***

The stone blocks bite into Dean's hands all over again, but he grits his teeth and scrambles over the balcony, his mask firmly in place. Tonight he's a bat—a creature of the night. He'd made the mask himself from some old leather Bobby had said he could use. He's scrounged his nicest clothes and scrubbed the crap from under his nails, and he hopes he doesn't smell like the farmyard. 

The wide, open balcony outside the ballroom is almost empty of guests, so no one notices as he drops into the ball. No one, except for the guard patrolling the outer edge. It's not Castiel. Cursing, Dean ducks back behind the large potted plants in the corner, but it's too late. The guard is on him, dropping him to the ground with surprising speed. He grunts as his hip and shoulder hit the stone floor, but a moment later the guy is hauled off him. 

"What the hell are you doing, Gadreel? This is one of our guests!" 

Dean is so pleased to hear Castiel's voice that he grins beneath his mask. 

The other guard apologizes, then Dean is pulled to his feet. He releases the helping hand and looks into the face of his rescuer, Castiel. His eyes are so freaking blue in the bright lights of the ballroom, and he wears no mask—only a small smile that lights him up. 

"Thanks, man," Dean says, grinning. 

Castiel eyes Dean's face, then looks down at his cleaner appearance. "Nice mask. A cat?" 

Dean scoffs. "Bat, actually."

Castiel's amusement is all in his eyes. "Of course, bat…man. In you go," he says, cocking his head at the ballroom doors. 

Inside, courtiers in brightly coloured dresses swirl around the room on the arms of well dressed gentlemen, like birds flocking with their feathered and jewelled masks, almost too gaudy to be real. 

But Dean only glances at them before turning his eyes back to Castiel. The guard’s amusement has disappeared, replaced by a sadness that pulls at Dean’s heart.

"Actually," he says, "I was hoping to run into you." He pulls a slightly damaged rose from his back pocket, presenting it to Castiel with a flourish. 

Castiel looks at the rose, then back up at Dean with sweet surprise in his eyes. 

Dean gives him his broadest smile. "Care to dance, Cas?" 

And while the Harvest ball carries on inside, outside the full moon shines down on two dancers, lost in each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> The gif above was created by the amazing [Foxymoley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymoley). Thank you so much! <3
> 
> Thanks for reading! You can find me on [Tumblr](http://ellen-of-oz.tumblr.com) and now also on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/ellen_of_oz).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Stable Boy and the Rose [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229712) by [EllenOfOz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz)




End file.
